


Marry Me

by lady_and_lemoncakes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I NEEDED TO FIX IT, These idiots are my favorite, inspired by a song, this f'ing song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_and_lemoncakes/pseuds/lady_and_lemoncakes
Summary: Originally for Jonsa Drabble Fest 2018 - March 19 - You and Me. 100% Inspired by the Thomas Rhett song Marry Me. It punches me directly in the feels.Continued for the Spring Challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

The whiskey burned like his eyes. He’d never admit it, but he’d cried for hours after the rehearsal dinner last night. The thought of Sansa marrying that asshole tears Jon’s insides apart, and he’s been dreading it for months.

As a friend of the Starks for decades, he is expected to be here, but it may actually kill him.

It’s why he’s been avoiding Sansa. He knows he’d share that to him, it isn’t just innocent smiles, soft touches, and flirting simply to flirt. Those little moments with her mean everything to him.

He pockets the silver flask, and Robb slaps him on the back. Even his best friend in the world doesn’t realize he isn’t drinking to celebrate.

It should be him waiting at the end of that isle. He should be crying because he’s the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet, not because of painful regret.

She’s going to look fucking radiant, and he will want to die. He should have told her years ago how beautiful she is in every way. Then he’d know how she feels.

He needs to know. He can’t watch her marry that asshole not knowing.

She also deserves to be happy on her wedding day. She doesn’t need him cocking it up with confessions of hidden feelings.

Jon sits beside Robb, torn between wanting to run to where Sansa’s getting ready, and staying seated like he knows he should.

He retrieves the flask, lifting it to his lips. He must look as miserable as he feels, because Robb side-eyes him while he drinks.

“You alright?”

Jon shakes his head, unable to answer, squeezing the tears from his eyes. “I can’t watch her marry him.”

“Um, what?” Robb leans closer, whispering, a harshness to his voice. A harshness Jon’s sure means don’t you dare ruin this for my baby sister.

“I can’t do it.” Jon shrugs sadly, and Robb sighs.

“You fucking idiots.” Robb rubs his temples in frustration.

“S’that supposed to mean?”

“How’s Jon?” Robb imitates Sansa. “I miss him. I never see him anymore.”

“She misses me?”

“You’re both idiots.” Robb groans. “You know where to find her.”

He does. He takes some deep breaths before knocking on the door. Margaery gives him the same exasperated look Robb had. Made for each other, those two are.

When he sees Sansa in her dress, he knows he made the right decision. Margaery and Arya step out of the room, and Sansa hugs him. He breathes in the smell of her hair, down like he always imagined.

He steadies himself. “I need to talk to you.”

“You’re awfully intense.” Sansa jokes. “Even for you.”

“I have feelings for you, and  **you and me** , I think we’d be happy together.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Have for years.”

“You picked a hell of a time to tell me.”

“Do you think we’d be happy?”

“It’d be messy, but yes.” She pulls the flask from his black jacket, and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was not put easily into 500 words or less.


	2. FOOLS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Day 1 of Jonsa Spring Challenge.

She is a fool. She must have absolutely lost her mind. Sansa is not impulsive, but here she is, minutes before she’s supposed to be getting married, kissing a man who is definitely not her fiancé. His pouty lips are just as soft as she imagined.

  
Yes, she has imagined what Jon’s lips would feel like.

  
Robb’s sweet, quiet friend. He’s her friend too. One of her best friends. They all used to be inseparable. She used to follow them around, enamored by the charming boy with the pretty curls. She’d kiss him on the cheek, and he’d blush. Sansa told anyone who would listen that she was going to marry him. As they got older, he stayed one of her favorite people, and she found excuses to sit in the bleachers during soccer or basketball practice, for reasons. Those reasons being a very sweaty, and sometimes very near naked Jon. She’d take any opportunity to be close to him. She could not have been more obvious. They looked out for each other when Robb went to West Point. He dropped everything to take her to her senior prom when her date ditched her at the last minute. Jon showed up in a tux, and with a corsage that perfectly matched her dress, on two hours notice. Ever since she got engaged, they drifted apart.

  
Jon has always been so guarded. She never thought he felt the same way, so she buried her feelings, and moved on as much as she could. Had Sansa known, well, she certainly wouldn’t have agreed to marry someone else.

  
She knew it was too short of an engagement. Her mother told her it was simply cold feet, but now she knows. Deep down, Sansa has always known. She doesn’t want to go through with the marriage.

  
It all happened so quickly. In less than a year, actually. She was set up on a date, and he was everything she should hope for. She thought over time she’d develop more affection, but it never happened. Then it got to the point where she would have felt horrible for breaking things off. Then he proposed, and she couldn’t embarrass him in front of their families! You can see how she got entirely over her head, and she only has herself to blame. She is a people pleaser, and a pushover. It’s a problem.

  
It’s really a problem. Because now Jon has a hand up her dress, and the way his palm feels against her thigh is doing things to her. He has her up against a wall, and has pushed her dress up. He nips at her neck, and pulls at her hair with his other hand. She moans, and finds his belt with her fingers.

  
Margaery or Arya knocks on the door, she doesn’t really care who. They must have been waiting outside the door, and heard her.

  
“Ahem.” Arya’s voice shoved them back to reality. “Friendly reminder that Dad will be here soon to walk you down the isle.”

  
In a way, it’s a good thing those two were outside the door, standing guard. Her father has a unfortunate habit of not knocking, and the last thing she needed was for him to walk in on her and Jon.  
He steps back, his skin flushed and breathing labored. It’s unfair, how attractive he is right now. She can’t stop looking at him. It’s unbelievable!

  
“I don’t want to make a mess of your life.” There is a torment in his eyes.

  
“You are one of the best parts of that life.” She reaches out to hold his face. She wants to make this very clear. He stares down, away from her gaze. She turns his face so his eyes meet hers. It breaks her heart that he may not believe her. “It hasn’t been the same without you in it.”

  
He’d been avoiding her for too long.

  
“Sansa!” A louder, more forceful, knock on the door demands their attention.

  
“Hey...” Sansa opens the door slightly. She isn’t sure why. Maybe she’s afraid Jon will leave if the door is wide open. “...I don’t think I’ll be walking down the isle today.”

  
“I’ll call Robb.” Margaery shakes her head, and pulls her phone from her clutch that matches her shoes and bridesmaid gown.

  
“How do you want to do this?” Arya wonders. “Do you want to break it to them all, or do you want to be on another continent with Jon when they’re told?”

  
“Being on another continent sounds tempting.” Jon shrugs, a smirk spread across his face.

  
“Propose I leave a note, do you?”

  
“I know you won’t.” She feels his hands on her bare arms, and his lips on her neck. “You’ll want to do the right thing.”

  
“You need to stop.” She turns to whisper. “Or all I’ll be able to do is you.”

  
“I can see you.” Arya scoffs, rolling her eyes.

  
“You might as well get used to it.”

  
“You might consider showing a little restraint.” Arya sighs. “What’s the plan?”

  
“Well, no one else needs to know about Jon’s little visit.” Sansa decides, making Jon laugh. “He isn’t why I’m not getting married. I’m not getting married because I don’t want to. So, he’s going to go back to his seat, and I’ll tell Dad when he gets here that I can’t go through with it.”

  
“We’ll go from there.” Arya nods. Everything would work out. Arya eyes Jon. “Try to look a bit more like your usual, broody self.”

  
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  
“Thanks for having my back.” Sansa hugs Arya, who shrugs.

  
“What else was I going to do?” Arya wonders. “You’d have mine.“

  
“Snow, when I told you to find Sansa, it was not so you could...” Robb loudly calls, and Margaery clasps her hand around his mouth.

  
“Robb!”

  
“What?”

  
“I did not tell you what I think happened so you could scream it.”

  
“Can **I** scream what I think happened?” Rickon chuckles suggestively, earning a smack on the chest from Sansa.

  
“Nothing happened.” Sansa tells them stubbornly. “Nothing. Happened.”

  
“Your guarder is around your ankle.” Bran observes, before laughing with Rickon.

“I am your sister!” Sansa groans, ducking behind Arya and Jon to fix her guarder. “You should not be laughing.”

  
“It’s Jon!” Rickon reminds her. “I thought you two were boyfriend and girlfriend for years.”

  
“You practiced signing Mrs. Jon Snow in your diary, and he wrote super secret poetry about you.”

  
“Bran!” Jon is mortified, and so is Sansa. Being on another continent sounds really tempting right now.

  
“Super secret poetry?” Robb grins, on the verge of losing it.

  
“I knew you assholes read my diary.”

  
“Build a bridge, and get over it.” Arya pats her head.

  
“I wrote that for school.” Jon seethes at Bran. “Who said it was about Sansa?”

  
“You didn’t have to.” Bran sighs. “You aren’t a bad writer. They were no Shakespearean sonnets, but pretty good.”

  
“Sansa! Wherefore art thou, Sansa?” Rickon jokes, and Bran side-eyes him.

  
“That is not a sonnet.”

  
“It is Shakespeare, though.” Rickon argues. “You could at least be impressed I know that.”

  
“We should be impressed you know an extremely popular quote everyone read in high school?” Bran sasses. “Raise the bar a little, baby brother.”

  
“Anyway!” Margaery is accustomed to dealing with Stark mayhem by this point. “What are we going to do?”

  
“You’re all going to leave, and I’m going hope Dad still has a really hard time seeing me unhappy.”

  
“I’m going to hope that poetry got used as kindling.” Jon mopes, still glaring at Bran.

  
“You should never have asked him for help with it.” Sansa smiles at him, and his face brightens.

  
“Well, he couldn’t have asked you, for obvious reasons.”

  
“We’ve got bigger problems.” Arya chokes on her laughter. “Dad.”

  
Fuck, it was true. There he was, sauntering toward them in his suit that matches her brothers.

  
“Are we all walking her down the isle?” Her Dad smiles at the group, and Sansa feels like complete shit.  
“About that...”

  
“Mosquito!” Arya smacks Jon on the neck, and Jon rubs the spot. “Giant mosquito. Oh, hells, it’s bleeding. You should go clean up.”

  
A very bewildered Jon marches off, and Margaery pulls Robb by the arm to follow. Arya pushes Rickon and Bran down the hallway, leaving Sansa alone with her father.

  
“What in the name of the gods was that about?”

  
“I was freaking.” Sansa breathes. “They were helping me sort some things out.”  
“You don’t want to get married.” He realizes, and considers her softly.

  
“I don’t.” Sansa admits. “What am I suppose to do?”

  
“Fight to get the deposits back.” Ned laughs, squeezing her shoulder, and pulling her into a hug.

  
“You aren’t mad?”

  
“No, I see it now. The Royce boy isn’t for you.” Ned shakes his head. “You should have said something.”

  
“I didn’t know what to say.”

  
“A no when he asked you to marry him would have been ideal.”

  
“You were all there!” Sansa defends. “His entire family was there! He shocked me! Had I had known...”

  
“It’s alright, sweet one.” He interrupts. “We won’t tell your mother that Jon had lipstick all over his neck before Arya smacked it.”

  
“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be adding to this throughout the Spring Challenge. I hope you enjoy!


	3. “Don’t Make It Weird.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Spring Challenge Day 2: dialogue challenge. I chose “Don’t Make it Weird.”  
> Sorry it’s a bit late, but my head hurt today, and two certain characters got a bit carried away.

It’s been hours since they went to the hotel tavern to wait for Sansa and her parents to finish discussing the end of Sansa’s engagement with her fiancé and his family. **EX** fiancé, Jon smiles, and sips his beer.

He had been so close to never knowing what those lips felt like against his own. Close to never knowing how smooth her skin is, and what it feels like have her body respond to his. It was intoxicating.

He’s looking forward to becoming thoroughly inebriated by Sansa, and is growing shamelessly impatient. He’d had a taste, and he desperately wants more.

He’d repressed his feelings for her for so long, they’re all bubbling to the surface. It’s a fucking nightmare, but not. It’s difficult to describe.

He prays to the old gods and the new that she’ll be up for continuing what they started earlier. She might not be, and that’s okay.

She might think it’s disrespectful to spend the night in another man’s bed hours after calling off a marriage, but that’s her call to make.

It’s just that he cannot get her out of his head. The sounds she was making. Her long legs and those shoes. He didn’t know he has a high heel kink, but he’s pretty sure he has a high heel kink. He resists the urge to text her, and ask her to wear the heels. Something is very wrong with him, and it started the second she kissed him. It flipped a switch, and he’s gone down a rabbit hole.

He busies himself playing pool. Theon is kicking his ass, but he doesn’t care. He’s just killing time until Sansa gets here.

“Jon!” Rickon grumbles, forcefully placing his bottle on the small table near them. “He just pushed the cue ball! You knock that shit off, Theon!”

“Make me.” Theon smirks, lifting his arms and the cue. “It isn’t my fault he’s distracted.” 

Rickon squares up, and Theon backs off, realizing this is no longer the small boy they used to rough house with. Rickon is built like a damn NFL linebacker. 

“That’s what I thought.” Rickon puffs out his chest. “Take your shot, Jonny.” 

“How long could it take to call off an engagement?” Jon sighs, missing another shot.

“Knowing the Royces,” Robb shrugs, “we could be waiting for a while.”

“You don’t think she’d change her mind, do you?”

“That isn’t happening.” Robb reassures him. “She’s had her mind set on you for decades. She used to tell everyone she was going to marry you.”

Jon remembers this Sansa. She was all ribbons and curls then. She used to follow him and Robb around, and Jon didn’t mind. He enjoyed the company. He met her at Robb’s birthday party, but it was Sansa who commanded his attention.

 _“Do you like my dress?”_  
_“I picked out these shoes!”_  
_“I can do a cartwheel!”_

Months later, she made him a card for his sixth birthday, that he still has. He’s never had very many friends, and she was the first person, besides his parents, that cared enough to make him something like that. When he asked her why she took the time to do it, she told him he’s her best friend. The feeling stuck with him. 

He knows it doesn’t take much for a four-year-old to say you’re their best friend, but Sansa has proved the words to be true over the years. She’s always been there for him. When he totaled his car. When his mother was sick. Countless other times. Not that Robb wasn’t there for him. It’s just different.

He isn’t able to pinpoint the moment he realized his feelings are far from platonic, but it was sometime around his senior year of high school. She’d turned fifteen a few months earlier, and when she wore a purple bikini he’d never forget, he noticed. He’d always been fond of her, but that was when he started feeling things he worried he shouldn’t. He should have made a move when he took her to prom, or any other time they were alone.

Sansa walks into the tavern, and nothing else matters. He makes his way over to the bar while she orders a drink.

“How’d it go?” He eyes her carefully, trying to discern how she is feeling.

“Miserable.” She sighs, downing a shot. “I feel like the worst person on the entire planet.”

“You’re not.” He rubs between her shoulders, and with just that minimal contact, back down the rabbit hole he goes. He pushes a bit of her hair away to lean in a whisper. “Want to get out of here?”

He cannot believe himself. He’s embarrassed. He sounds like a fuckboy.

He will remember the look she gives him for the rest of his life. She surveys him up and down, narrows her eyes, and nods. It’s the damn sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and he’s eternally grateful his room is an elevator ride away. “Think we can sneak away without any of them noticing?”

“I doubt it.”

“Jon!” Theon shouts. “Are we playing or what?”

“I forfeit.” Jon waves, taking Sansa’s hand.

“Ow ow!” Rickon and Arya call obnoxiously. “Bow chicka bow wow.”

“It’s about fucking time!” Bran joins in.

“Here’s to my room being nowhere near yours!” Robb holds up his pint glass.

“Don’t make it weird.” Jon hears Margaery beg Robb before Sansa leads him out into the lobby.

They don’t make it to the elevator. They find a secluded corner, and pick up where they left off. He hasn’t felt this way, ever. His mouth is all over her body. The parts that aren’t under her dress, anyway. His hand takes care of those that are, for now. He can’t wait to take off the silky panties he feels getting wetter and wetter. He considers not waiting. She starts to moan, and he kisses her, deep and slow, to muffle the sound. No matter how much he loves it, other people hearing her was probably a bad idea.

“This is a bad idea.” He laughs, breathless.

“What?” She looks hurt, and he realizes why. She thinks he means they’re a bad idea, not groping each other in public.

“Doing this here is a bad idea.” He clarifies, and she is relieved. He squeezes her hand, and they find their way to the elevator.

“You’re a tease.” She groans, and he kisses her. A soft kiss. A I’m so happy this is finally happening kiss.

“Says the one who used to prance around in her bikinis.”

“I should feel offended and objectified,” Sansa sighs, “but I used to ogle you without your shirt on all the time.”

“You can tease and ogle me all you want.”

She tugs at his shirt, and kisses him until they arrive at his floor. His room is blissfully close to the elevator. They find it quickly.

He closes the door with his foot, and she pulls his shirt over his head. She admires his upper body, grazing his skin with her fingertips, and he slips the panties he wanted gone while they were in the lobby down her legs. She unzips his pants, and he kicks them and his shoes off. He slides the dress off, and his hands and mouth explore her body as they fall onto the bed. Her lacy bra does not stay on long. His hand finds her clit, and he eagerly licks and sucks her breasts and nipples.

Each moan and sigh send him closer to the edge. He’s nearly sent over the edge when she slips his cock from his boxer-briefs, and starts moving her hand agonizingly slow up and down the shaft. He takes her hand, placing it above her head. He bends her legs, and positions himself so he’s able to properly do what he’s wanted to do all night. He’s gotten quite a few complements on his skill, and he’s hoping to have Sansa screaming very soon. He starts slow. If she was going to call him a tease, he’d show her a tease. She quickly changes his pace, pulling his hair, and bucking her hips against his tongue. His fingers dig into her ass as she climaxes, and he smirks up at her.

He lays next to her, and she pulls his boxer-briefs down, keen to return the favor. She does, and he’s barely conscious when she’s finished.

He massages and kisses as much of her body as he can for a long while. She straddles him, sliding his cock into her folds. She rolls back and forth, and Jon leans up to take one of her nipples in his mouth again.

“Jon...” The cry is too much for him to handle, and he pushes her down onto the mattress. He thrusts into her, and they both find their release for the second time of many that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I do not typically write smut. I don’t feel I’m very good at it. They got carried away, and just went with it. That’s part of why this is being posted late, because it took forever.


	4. STARTING ANEW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jonsa Spring Challenge Day 3 - STARTING ANEW  
> SUPER FLUFFY. I’m not even sorry.

When he shows her pictures of the adorable, three bedroom house on his laptop, she immediately falls in love.

The gray stone and pillars remind Sansa of her parents home, and so does the backyard. The kitchen is gorgeous, and she must be insane to be thinking she could easily see them starting their family in this house.

It did not surprise her how seamless the transition into a relationship with Jon was. It had its awkward moments at first, but they are ridiculously happy. When she woke up curled next to him that first morning, she knew that is what she wants. He makes her feel cherished and safe. They’ve been together almost a year now, and she’s pretty sure he’s looked at engagement rings. She had called him after work a week or so ago, and he had been at the mall. She cannot think of any other reason Jon would be at the mall. He only goes around Christmas for gifts he is unable to obtain online. Jon hates the mall. Margaery agrees, he was at the jewelry store. They have discussed their future at length, and moving in together has become a part of that future sooner than she thought it would.

Both of their leases are up for renewal in a couple of months, and they originally decided to only renew one. Which one, they had trouble agreeing on. The problem being, she and Jon are both attached to the places they’ve been renting.

Jon’s solution was to move into somewhere completely new. So began the search for a place that would be theirs.

She thought they would rent a townhouse or something, but she may have just been sold on buying a house.

She could hear her parents now. They weren’t exactly thrilled when she told them she’d be moving in with Jon when her lease is up.

_You aren’t even engaged, Sansa!_

They’re protective, and they worry. It comes with the territory. It seems like she is the only one of their children whose decisions get so scrutinized, though. Robb and Margaery get nothing but love and support. No one wants to know how Arya makes her money. Bran spent an entire semester internship in Seattle couch surfing. She’s pretty sure Rickon has no idea what he wants to do with his life. They say nothing, at least not in front of her.

Imagining their reaction to her venturing into such commitment with Jon makes her laugh, and Jon continues to scroll through the rest of the pictures in the slide show. One of the bedrooms has a canopy bed like she had as a little girl, and a beautifully painted mural. It gives her serious feels. She really wants to buy this house.

“What do you think?” Jon gazed at her expectantly.

“I want it to be our home.”

“Me too.” He holds her closer on his couch, and kisses her head. “I’ll get in touch with the Realitor.”

“We’ll need to get a mortgage approved.” Sansa reminds him. “See if we can even afford this place.”

“I got pre-approved last year for more.” Jon shares, turning the laptop toward Ghost. “What do you think, buddy? Lots of space to run, and do Ghost stuff. There’s a park nearby...”

“You were thinking of buying a house last year?”

“Before I renewed my lease.” Before they were together. Jon shrugs. “I was curious about my other options.”

“This is so surreal.” Sansa scratches Ghost’s ears. “It’s like we’re actual adults, and this is an actual possibility.”

“Your parents missed that memo.” Jon snickers, still clicking through the slideshow. “Look at this shower in the master bedroom!”

“Speaking of possibilities.”

“There’s a deep tub as well.” Jon smiles at her. “Double vanity and sink.”

“Necessary.” Sansa swoons. “If there are walk-in closets, I will gladly switch over my direct deposit to whomever can make this happen.”

A few days later, they’re approved for a mortgage, and meeting the Realitor to view the house of their dreams.

“Do you think the shower is as spacious as the picture made it seem?” Jon asks, while they wait in his car.

“If it isn’t, we’re not making an offer.” Sansa teases. “Would she judge us if we asked to see the master bathroom first?”

“Probably.”

The pictures didn’t do the adorable three bedroom justice. The shower is as spacious as advertised, and yes, there are walk-in closets.

They make an offer, and after some negotiation, it’s accepted. They close on their home a month later.

Her parents balk when they tell them, but they genuinely seem happy once they have some time to process the news. Her mother tells Sansa in private that Jon spoke to them about proposing to her. She’s sure that has nothing to do with their sudden lack of interference.

Moving is the worst, but Sansa absolutely adores their home. It’s a clean slate, a new start, and it’s the first thing that is theirs. She can’t wait to paint, and decorate it with Jon. She can’t wait to live life in this house with Jon.

Taking a break from unpacking, Jon pops open a bottle of champagne to celebrate their first night in their new home while they eat dinner at the island counter. He hands her a glass, and lightly touches it with his own. “Look at us. Eating dinner in our new house.”

“Look at us.”

“To new beginnings, and new memories.” Jon leans over and kisses her before sipping his champagne.

“I love you.” Sansa beams. “I’m excited about these new beginnings and new memories.”

“I love you. I’m excited to try that shower.” Jon winks, tossing pizza crust to Ghost.

“Shocking.” Sansa laughs. “Do you like our new house, Ghostie?”

He trots over to her, and tries to jump up on her like he is a lap dog. His front paws are all he can manage in the chair she is sitting in. She loves their life. It doesn’t matter when or how Jon asks her to marry him, they know what her answer will be. Unlike her previous engagement, she would have no doubt in her mind that being with him is what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy domestic AF jonsa buying their own house to be all domestic in. This was kind of a transition chapter, but I still love them.


	5. PICTURE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jonsa Spring Challenge Day 4: Picture. I chose the winter rose picture prompt. I had all intentions of posting this before work last night. As you can tell, that didn’t happen. Bare with me. These next chapters will be shortish. I work tonight, and probably tomorrow night as well, but I’m determined to finish this challenge.

He had planned the night meticulously. A rare occurrence in Jon Snow’s life, but he wants it to be perfect. He wants it to be everything she deserves.

Jon has made secret reservations at a favorite restaurant of theirs, and he mostly knows how he is going to ask her. He isn’t going to do it at the restaurant. He’s going to wait until they’re home. He’s going to put the ring in the card accompanying the Winter Roses he got her.

He is aware that she knows he is going propose at some point. He’s hoping to catch her off guard. She was so sure he was going to do it on their anniversary, but she would have been expecting it. He doesn’t want to do it when she’s expecting it. He’s a little shit like that.

So, he’s been planning on tonight. A night of no significance, but he hopes one day it will be.

He arranged to have the day off, to prepare. Everything was going according to plan, until she texted him around eleven.

**Last night’s sushi has betrayed me. I can’t stop throwing up.**

He tells her to come home, and he’ll take care of her, but apparently, it’s much worse than she’s letting on.

**Brienne wants me to go to the walk-in. She’s worried.**

While he can’t disagree with Brienne, and he’s also very worried about Sansa, he is frustrated. It would happen today of all days. It’s okay. He reminds himself that he can still propose. He’ll take care of her, and propose. It will actually make for a very cute story someday.

Concerned, he meets her at the clinic. She looks so pale and weak, it breaks his heart. She leans on him while they wait, exhausted. He is willing to remain in the waiting room while she is seen, to give her privacy, but she wants him with her. He’s glad he’s there, as she gets sick several more times in between them running tests and examining her. He’s glad she is not alone. He almost wishes they had gone to the ER. She’d have fluids and meds by and would hopefully be feeling better. He blames himself for all his complaints about people going to the ER when they don’t really need to. He’s given her a complex.

The physician’s assistant caring for her knocks on the door, and will hopefully be able to tell them why she is so sick.

“Well, you don’t have food poisoning.” She tells Sansa. “Your pregnancy test was positive.”

“Run it again, because it must be wrong.” Sansa shakes her head. She points to her upper arm. “I have the thing.”

His normally very articulate girlfriend is fumbling on her words, and he has to tell himself not to react.

“I’ve heard of people getting their partners pregnant after a vasectomy.” The PA nods. “Nothing is 100% effective. Except a full hysterectomy, I suppose. You’ll want to make an appointment with an OBGYN to confirm, of course. We’ll remove your implant before you leave.”

“So, I’m just supposed to throw up for months?”

“No, there are medications you can take, and we’ll also give you some prenatal vitamins.” The PA smiles sympathetically. Sansa glares at her. She must know something he doesn’t about these vitamins. “Your HCG levels should relax toward the end of the first trimester.”

“My mother was sick with Rickon her entire pregnancy.” Sansa remembers. “It was awful.”

“That was a long time ago.” Jon comforts her. Still not processing, only concerned for Sansa. “Doesn’t surprise me, though.”

“I ate sushi.” She whimpers. “I’ve drank.”

“You didn’t know.” Jon kisses her head.

“I’m just saying, I get why it’s pissed at me.”

He’s opening the car door for Sansa when he pauses. He braces himself against the car. “Oh my god.”

“Just hitting you now, is it?” She squeezes his hand.

“Oh my god.” They are going to be responsible for another human life. The magnitude of this is giving him a whole lot of anxiety. They’ve talked about having children, but hypothetical is great deal different from actual. “I’m going to need a minute.”

“Take your time.”

He is able to eventually sit in the driver’s seat, and he laughs. “I was going to propose tonight, and now everyone will think it’s because you’re pregnant.”

“That has yet to be confirmed.”

“I had it all planned out.”

“Don’t let this stop you.” Sansa links her arm in his. “Definitely don’t let this stop you.”

“This baby will know that that all my plans got tossed out the window.”

“You should have known nothing would go as you planned.” Sansa smiles at him. “When has anything ever gone like we planned?”

“Excuse me for hoping.”

When they get home, she gushes over her favorite flowers, and cries when she opens the card. “You’re adorable.”

“You told me I’m the best part of your life once. You’re the best part of mine. I forget what I was going to say, but I love you.”

She happily agrees to marry him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, the next prompt is BABIES. I had to set it up!


	6. BABIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jonsa Spring Challenge - Day 5: BABIES.  
> Baby Snow is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. Work and sickness kicked my ass this week. I finished this story, though! I’ll post the next chapters after I post this! Thank you to all who have read!

The manual in front of her is completely useless. Useless. They have been in the nursery all afternoon, attempting to put furniture together. It is not going well.

“How important is a crib?” Jon lets the parts he is struggling to assemble fall to the ground in frustration.

“I don’t know, Jon.” Sansa snaps. Pregnancy has made her extra snappy. Sitting on the floor is not comfortable, and she’s hungry. “Do you sleep on the floor, or on a bed?”

“On a bed.” He answers, sheepishly.

“I’m sorry.” She sighs, massaging her belly. The Braxton Hicks contractions had started around the time the morning sickness finally pissed off. Growing Baby Snow has not been easy. It’s been exhausting. She doesn’t know how her mother went through it five times, but seeing that sweet, little face on ultrasound makes it worth it. “I’m tired, and I’m sore, and I’m hungry, and he’s lying against my spine like it’s a chaise lounge.”

They found out months ago that they’re having a little boy, but they still haven’t been able to settle on a name.

“Let’s take a break.” Jon decides, standing up.

“From what?” Sansa stares up at him. “We haven’t gotten anything done.”

“I can call in reinforcements.” Jon shrugs. She doesn’t want to do that. She wants to have the nursery ready for the baby. She doesn’t want to ask her family for help.

“We’re terrible parents.” Sansa pouts. “We can’t even set up his nursery.”

“It takes a village...” He holds his hands out to help her off the floor.

“Our village would never let us live it down.” She takes his hands, and he pulls her up. A twinge rolls through her abdomen, and she squeezes his hands.

“That was a bad one.” Jon notices. “Are you timing them?”

“Trying to.” The supposedly fake contractions had grown more regular throughout the afternoon. They were lasting longer, and getting more intense. It’s part of why she was determined to finish the nursery. “They’re different.”

“A go to the hospital different?”

“I don’t know.” She honestly doesn’t. Ghost brushes against her leg, and rubs his face against her belly. She pats his head. The German Shepherd has always been protective of her, but it’s been bordering on ridiculous since she’s been pregnant. “Let’s see if walking helps.”  
Ghost darts out of the room, and they hear his paws run down the stairs.

“You said w-a-l-k.”

“I didn’t mean a Ghost w-a-l-k.” Sansa laughs, and he runs back up the stairs, having heard his name. He stares at them from the doorway. Another pain hits her, and she braces herself against the changing table that Robb and Margaery had given them already put together. It and the rocking chair from her parents are the only functioning pieces of furniture in the room.

“If you have more that close together, we’re going.” Jon rubs her back lovingly.

“Okay.” She agrees, straightening out to leave the room. She feels a warm trickle down her leg, followed by another contraction. The trickle turns into gush, soaking her pants. She’s pretty sure her water just broke. “We should go.”

“Yeah, those were really close together.”

“I think my water broke.” She flourishes her hand over her pants.

“Oh.” He notices, trying to hide the panic in his voice. “When Baby Snow decides he wants to be born, he decides he wants to be born.”

“Nothing is ready.” Sansa sighs, walking to their bedroom.

“Untrue.” Jon finds the hospital bag while she changes. “His little clothes are all clean, and organized by size. He has enough diapers to last him months. There’s a changing table to change him on, a rocking chair to rock him in, and a bassinet for him to sleep in when he comes home. Oh, and the baby bath. He also has a cute baby bath, with turtles on it.”

“I still don’t feel ready.” Sansa admits, sitting on the bed. Ghost rests his head on her lap. She wishes she could take their dog with them. He has a very calming presence.

“I don’t think we will.”

“He doesn’t have a name.”

“It’ll give us something to talk about while we’re waiting for him to be born.” Jon pats Ghost on the back, and shoulders the hospital bag.

“Good, I’m sure I’ll be bored to tears.” He helps her stand, and familiar nausea makes her groan. “Why do I feel like I did when I had morning sickness?”

“The books said that can happen.”

“I thought we had a deal?” She looks down at her belly. “No more making me throw up. If I throw up you are grounded.”

“It isn’t his fault.” He places a hand on her stomach. He feels the difference too. She can tell by his face. Her belly is lower, more toned. Baby Snow would be here very soon. “We should bug out. I don’t want to have to deliver my own son.”

“Bug out?” Sansa giggles, leaning on the bannister, following Jon closely down the stairs.

“You’re telling me quintessential grumpy veteran Ned Stark never used that phrase?”

“Maybe when the kitchen caught on fire.”

“I forgot about that.” Jon laughs, squeezing one of Ghost’s toys before tossing it onto his bed in the living room. This usual cue for Ghost to go to his bed fails. “Robb tried to make grilled cheese in a toaster.”

“And _whose_ idea was that?” Sansa leads Ghost over to his bed, as he is refusing to leave her side.

“ _I_ said it was a terrible idea!” Jon laughs, grabbing his keys. “He’s the idiot that wanted to try it.”

“He put the toaster on the highest setting, because he wanted it to be crispy.” Sansa remembers, closing her eyes, and trying to not think about the pain and nausea. She rubs her belly, and realizes soon she wouldn’t have a reason to. She tells Baby Snow, “Don’t get any ideas.”

“It was crispy, alright.” Jon jokes, crouching down to pet Ghost. “Be good, boy. I’ll be home to check on you.”

“He’s excited to meet Baby Snow too.”

Fortunately, the ride to the hospital is short. Baby Snow is born within an hour of arriving to the labor and delivery floor. She had been in labor all day, and it’s a good thing they got to the hospital when they did.

He looks like Rickon when he was born, Sansa thinks, except his hair is dark like Jon’s. Jon dotes over them, and sends a picture to their family and friends.

“He has the nurses wrapped around his tiny finger already.” Jon tells his mother on the phone. “One said he’s the most beautiful baby she’s ever seen. Sans, Mom sends her love. They’ll be by in the morning.”

“We should probably name him before his grandparents do.” Sansa strokes Baby Snow’s cheek, and he opens his eyes.

“You know what would make the grandparents very happy.”

She knows what he is suggesting. Jon is suggesting going the traditional route, and naming Baby Snow after a grandparent. It’s nearly impossible to choose which one, though.

“I do know.” She gazes down at Baby Snow thoughtfully. “Is he a Ned or an Arthur?”

“Well, he’s already getting Snow from my Dad, technically.” Jon shrugs. “Maybe we should go with Ned.”

Her father has always preferred his nickname to his given name, and so do they.

“They’ve all been amazing.” Sansa reminds him. “If we’re going with Ned, Arthur should be his middle name. He’d have the same middle name as you. I like that.”

“I do too.” Jon pulls his chair closer to the bed, and kisses her forehead. She hands him little Ned, and enjoys seeing Jon bond with his newborn son. “It’s a good name. Happy birthday, Ned! I might slip, and still call you Baby Snow.”

“Me too.” Sansa smiles at them, leaning back against her pillow. She closes her eyes, and falls into a peaceful sleep feeling very lucky.

 


	7. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jonsa Spring Challenge Day 6: Song. I chose the Chopin song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but I adore it.

Robb holds little Ned above his head, and he reaches his tiny hands for his uncle’s face. Robb laughs, and Ned giggles loudly.

It is easily one of Jon’s favorite sounds, ever. He started laughing a couple weeks ago, and Jon has loved finding new ways to make his baby laugh.

Fatherhood has been, a rollercoaster. He hasn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time since Ned was born, and there are times he doesn’t have a fucking clue what he is doing, but that little boy and his mother mean the world to him.

“You’re giving my wife baby fever, kid.” Robb blows raspberries on Ned’s cheek. “You are, and I might not mind.”

“We never had the fever.” Jon ruffles Ned’s dark curls. He has some impressive locks for an infant, if Jon does say so. “We just got the baby.”

“The cutest baby!” Robb hands him Ned. “Until mine are born.”

“We’ll see about that.” Jon challenges, bouncing Ned in his arm. “Won’t we, Neddie?”

Sansa recently went back to work after her maternity leave, and has been feeling guilty. Her friend Jeyne is in town, and she hasn’t seen her in ages. They lost touch around the time Jeyne moved to California. With some help from Margaery, Jon convinced her to spend the day with her friends.

Robb decided to spend some time with Jon and Ned.

Ned snuggles into Jon’s chest, and sucks on his thumb.

“Sansa did that for years.” Robb smiles fondly at his nephew. “I think someone is tired.”

“It’s just about time for another nap.” Jon nods, rubbing Ned’s back. Ned fusses, and Ghost runs over with a toy in his mouth. It’s his response every time Ned cries. They aren’t sure if Ghost thinks the toy will cheer him up, or if he thinks playing with him will cheer Ned up, but either way, it’s hilarious.

Jon repositions Ned, and he cries louder. Ghost tries a different toy. Robb cringes.

“I think I found the vaccine for baby fever.” Robb shakes his head. “A very loud vaccine.”

“Like you don’t get grumpy when you’re tired.” Jon soothes Ned, and Robb follows him upstairs to the nursery. Jon lays Ned on the changing table, which he does not appreciate.

“He went from laughing to screaming real quick.”

“He’s a baby.” Jon tries a pacifier, and Ned spits it out. He finishes changing him, and sits down in the rocking chair, to hopefully rock him to sleep.

“I can hear myself think again.” Robb sits on the window seat.

“Don’t be a jackass.” Jon continues to rock Ned.

“Language.” Robb warns with a smirk.

Ned settles down, and Jon lays him in his crib. Jon walks to the other side of the room, and turns on some soft music.

“What the hell is that?”

“Chopin?” Jon listens for a moment. “I think it’s Chopin.”

“Neddie appreciates classical music?”

“It makes Sansa happy.” Jon shrugs, turning on the baby monitor. “I have no reason to argue.”

“Smart man.” Robb laughs. “They’re much cuter when they’re not screaming.”

“They’re worth a little screaming.”

 


	8. Some Things Are Meant To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jonsa Spring Challenge Day 7: Free Choice.  
> Everything comes full circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die. Honestly, that should be the summary of this entire fic.

Her mother helps her with her veil, and it feels like deja vu. It’s a different veil, a different dress, and different venue, but she has done this before. She was about to marry Waymar before Jon knocked on the door that day.

Jon and Waymar even look oddly similar. Or it isn’t odd, and subconsciously, that’s why she tried to make it work with Waymar. This is not what she needed to be thinking about today. She’s wanted to marry Jon for ever, and today that is happening.

“You look stunning.” Catelyn beams. “Stunning.”

“I feel anxious, and like I forgot something.” Sansa frets. “Robb has the rings?”

“He does.” Margaery assures her. “I put them in his suit pocket myself.”

“It’s going to be the wedding of your dreams, Sans.” Jeyne squeezes her hand. She is so grateful to have her friend in her life again.

There’s a knock on the door, and Arya snorts. “Who’s going to confess their love for you this time?”

“Not funny.” Catelyn shoots a truly terrifying glare at Arya, and opens the door.

“Lenna is ready to throw some flowers.” Robb smiles at his baby daughter, who babbles in response.

“I show her.” Little Ned nods in the arms of his namesake. “Mommy!”

The toddler wiggles free, and makes a beeline for her. He hugs her legs, and she lifts him up.

“Pretty.” He plays with her veil, and the little boy with Jon’s curls and her eyes reminds her how different things are this time around.

“Thank you.” She brushes her nose against his equally freckled one.

“Wagon!” He points, spying the wagon he is going to pull Lenna down the isle in. He was very excited about this when they practiced last night. Did he manage to pull the wagon where it was supposed to go? No. Margaery ended up holding a screaming Lenna, and her son ran around the church pulling the wagon, making siren sounds.

“Are you going to pull Lenna down the isle toward Daddy and Uncle Robb?”

“M&Ms!” Little Ned nods, grinning. Sansa eyes Robb.

“Don’t look at me!” Robb puts his hands up in innocence. “Your future husband is the one bribing him with candy!”

“You’re kidding me.” Sansa groans. “Neddie, tell Daddy you’re not Ghost. He shouldn’t try to train you like you are.”

“Not Ghost.” He agrees, looking around. “Where Ghostie?”

“He’s at home, sweetheart.”

“I miss him.”

“I’m sure he misses you too.” Sansa tells him. “Jon seriously has M&Ms?”

“He wants everything to be perfect.” Her father laughs. “For you.”

“The sugar crash tantrum should be fun to deal with.” Sansa shakes her head. “That’s sweet, though.”

“Shall we get this show on the road?”

Sansa nods, and everyone takes their places.

Robb helps settle Lenna in the wagon before kissing Margaery, and heading to the front to stand by Jon.

“Remember, kid.” Arya musses Ned’s hair. “M&Ms.”

“M&Ms!” Her son yells, loudly. The door is still slightly ajar, and the guests hear him. They laugh, and so does Sansa.

The procession begins. Jeyne, followed by Margaery, then Arya.

“Go ahead, Neddie.” Sansa encourages. “Walk the wagon to Daddy.”

He takes off, and her father pats her arm affectionately. “You’re happy?”

“How could I not be?” She gets her first glimpse of Jon waiting for her the end of the isle, and their little boy stopping midway down the isle to throw flowers with his cousin. She wipes her eyes with a tissue.

“Neddie! The whole isle needs flowers for Mommy!” Jon calls to their son, and he enthusiastically begins throwing flowers all over place. Jon shakes his head with laughter, and Arya backtracks to guide him down the isle. She takes him to Jon, and brings Lenna to Margaery. She hides the wagon and the rest of the flowers while Sansa walks down the isle. The happiness on Jon’s face is priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to miss them. They’re so fluffy and fun. Thank you to everyone who read! Be honest, should have had Ghost be a ring bearer too, right? Regrets.


End file.
